Touch
by BadOldWestern
Summary: Series of plot-less drabbles of Katniss and Peeta's physical relationship. Rating should imply what that entails. Smut. Well, this is one of my stories, so obviously.


They wake in the middle of the night because he's groaning in his sleep.

They're spooned together for warmth in their shared sleeping bag. He groans softly in a dream and it stirs her awake.

She assumes in pain, but she's wrong. She wants to ask, but stops herself. He seems to have tensed defensively. When she feels something poke against her thigh, she blushes, but it can't be caught on camera, her humiliation and his current state just look like gray shapes hidden in the dark corners of the cave.

He feels her shift uncomfortably, and grunts a quiet apology in her ear. But he doesn't move away. He seems to be testing something.

They lie there spooning each other in silence. Curiosity tingles in her brain.

"Peeta…" she whispers softly. She doesn't want this to be for the cameras. She wants to have a conversation as people, not tributes.

He's silent. Nervous. The air around them is cold and still.

"Yes?" he answers sheepishly.

She gnaws on her lower lip, but she might as well. There might not be much time left for this sort of thing.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He flinches against her back, and she can more than guess what.

His breath comes out against her neck. She shivers.

"You." he mutters.

She nods slightly. "I thought so."

He chuckles in spite of himself. "You can't exactly blame me."

"I don't. I didn't the _first_ time it happened." She points out. She smirks a little at this.

He covers his face with his hand. "You could have said something before."

"…it's okay. I don't mind…"

She closes her eyes and shifts her hips back against his.

He shudders.

"Did I do that wrong?" she murmurs, glancing back at him.

"No…god no."

She stills her movements. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this. You can, um take care of that, if you have to."

She shuts her eyes tight, cursing her words.

"I'll be fine." He says softly.

He smoothes a hand over her hip, and she jumps a little. He feels how tense she is.

"Do you not want me to…?"

"It's not you, it's just…"

He plays with the end of her braid, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?" she's waiting, a little eagerly. Something about what they're talking about makes her want them to keep going. She doesn't understand exactly what they're saying, but she wants more without knowing exactly what it is she wants more of.

"Have you ever…" he ducks his head lower, whispering, "Have you ever had…you know…an orgasm?"

He seems sad for her, she can't understand why.

"No…why would I?"

He buries his head close to the back of her neck, for the sake of not being heard by anyone but her.

"Well, I don't know, you never…touched yourself?"

"No." she says flatly.

He feels invasive, and wishes he found better words.

"Oh." He curls his arm around her waist, not ready to drop it but thoroughly embarrassed.

"I mean, there was a lot else on my mind, at home. I didn't think about it."

"Oh?" He returns, not moving.

"But…before I die, I might as well…" she bites her lip. These words aren't coming out of her mouth. No. they couldn't be. She frowns, but doesn't want to take them back, doesn't want to move his arm.

"Katniss, you're not going to die." He blurts out. He shuts his eyes, knowing he killed whatever momentum they were getting at.

"But still, I…"

She buries her face in the sleeping bag. "I don't know how."

"You have time to learn. When you get out of here." He strokes her back gently.

"Can you, do you know how…?" she whispers. "To like, make me…"

He closes his eyes, ready to burst.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Really?"

She turns her head at him, wide eyed.

"Do you trust me?"

She considers this. "I think so."

"Okay. You have to relax. Don't tense up. I'm just going to touch you."

She nods.

He doesn't know how to start this. This isn't the romantic courtship and seduction he dreamed of. This is what he got. It's funny how things worked out.

His hand smoothes over her hip and slips under the waistband of her pants. He has to keep his movements slow and small, or the cameras would catch on to what was happening. But night footage was usually glossed over because it was usually, well, sleeping. Sound was what got the attention back in the editing room. If they stayed quiet, they'd be okay.

He reaches the hem of her underwear, and takes a deep breath. She shifts her hips

He slips his hand over her clothed core and cups her.

Katniss shudders, and falls against his chest, and for a moment, she's his, she's his Katniss. He never thought it'd be like this, and recently never thought it'd happen for real at all. But she leans into him and lets him touch her like that.

His middles finger squirms between her lips to part them. She sighs softly, rolling her hips for friction. He slides the finger up and down her slit carefully, slowly, so she gets used to the feel of it. He finds her clit and she covers her mouth with her hand.

She bites her lip so hard it's turning blue and he can't get over the shadowy sight of her. She cries out just a little as his slips his hand inside her underwear, touching her bare flesh. He revels in how wet she is already. She needed this.

He strokes gentle two fingers around her clit a few times. He continues with slow circles until she starts shifting her hips towards his hand. He moves faster, going from circles to up and down, until she's whimpering softly. He wants to kiss her mouth, cover up those perfect sounds, and devour them. He doesn't feel like he earned this though. He's doing her a favor, gifting her an orgasm so she won't die not knowing what it's like. But she won't; she'll survive these games. He'll die making sure that happens.

He buries his face in her hair, breathing heavily. She doesn't know he's crying, choking on tears. He cries because he loves her and she kissed him and cared for him and he knows that he loves her so much. he got to tell her and now he had to die so she could live. He hides his tears from her very well. She's lost in the pleasure she's never felt before. She's never let herself feel it. She can barely understand what her own body is doing, but with each stroke of his fingers, she just knows she wants more.

And something is building. She wants to cry out more than anything, to writhe and scream and move against him, but can only lie still with him curled around her back. She gnaws on her hand to keep herself quiet. He loves every muffled noise.

And he moves so quickly that it finishes her off in minutes, and she gasps.

"Pretend you're homesick, fake cry." He advises, grunting.

She buries her face in his chest, sobbing, but it's not entirely fake. She's in shock and doesn't know what to do now, with this experience. She blubbers noisily into his chest, making a bit of a show for the cameras.

"There, there, it's okay, you can go home soon." He soothes, smoothing her hair. He says it a bit louder, for the camera's sake.

He's aroused out of his mind, and it was all it took from him not to breach her, not to roll her on her back and part her thighs and do who knows what else to her.

She buries her face in his neck, lips brushing under his ear. "Thank you, thank you…" he pulls her close and holds her tight.

She feels his erection poking into her stomach.

"Do you want me to…?"

She slides her hand down his stomach nervously, not entirely sure how to touch him.

"Don't worry about me." He pushes her hands away. "Just sleep. It's what I want. I want to sleep holding you. Please."

She accepts this, and consents to him holding her tight, like she belongs to him.

Because she feels she does. In an odd way. She was never going to be unbound to Peeta Mellark. This night proved it. Through fate, through pain, through bread. She likes his touch. She likes how gentle he was, how he didn't try to sprinkle clichés or romantic nonsense because she didn't want to hear that. This wasn't for the cameras. This was for her.

"We're both going to survive, I promise." She whispers softly.

His eyes are closed. They're both tired.

"I'm not all that concerned about that right now."

"Why?"

"Because one of the last things I wanted to do with my life was make you feel like that." He says softly, brushing his lips over her temple. She blushes, but it's lost in the shadows.


End file.
